


Intentionally false

by Teslatell



Category: New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Are you curious? I think you're curious., I AINT giving anything away here, I don't think that summary could be any vaguer, Major End Spoilers, Multi, canon-divergence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-03
Updated: 2017-12-03
Packaged: 2019-02-04 06:49:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,176
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12765435
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Teslatell/pseuds/Teslatell
Summary: "This killing game will be the end of you all!"Nobody wanted to participate in this absurd killing game, but they did anyways. Who lives, who dies, it's all up to those sixteen students. Those students will fight their way through this "game". They will uncover all truths.For the walking lie, it just got a lot harder to keep their secret.(MAJOR NDRV3 SPOILERS)





	Intentionally false

**Author's Note:**

> The first sentences that start off a story are always the ones that set expectations for the story itself. So, I need to make sure I do this right.

The boy woke up in a cold sweat. His entire frame shivered violently as he stared up at the ceiling with bloodshot eyes. The room was pitch black, yet his eyes still felt like they were being confronted with a blinding light. The mattress underneath his small frame that was once a source of comfort, felt like pins and needles piercing him all over. A small cricket sound rang in his ears as he turned his head to the side. The puddle of drool that greeted him when he did so was pleasant. He knew it was disgusting, but he dug his face deeper into the wet pillow. The boy lifted a weak hand up to his face and picked at the dirt under his fingernails with his thumbnail. A speck of the dirt flew into his eye. He flinched and rubbed at his pink eye, swearing under his breath. The boy sighed in frustration, turning over in his bed for the tenth time that night. Insomnia was a fickle thing, really. He had not gotten a proper night of sleep in weeks. It seemed as though he was destined to never sleep, an inhuman machine. The boy shut his eyes tightly, hoping for a miracle of some sort. He felt the cool air of his room hit his face as the air conditioning automatically switched on. Great, now it was too cold. He began to shiver as he pulled his covers over his frail form, trying to shield himself from the freezing temperature. The boy wished he had a better functioning body. People would always say he had such a fragile look to him, as if the slightest breeze would topple him over. Frankly, he didn't want to admit it, but he agreed. He just  didn't want it to be true. The boy was always very sickly. Shuddering, he burrowed himself deeper into the blankets, trying to hide from the cold. Droplets of sweat had somehow found their way to the boy's neck, plastering his hair to the back of it. That only made the cold worse. Rolling onto his back, the boy stared up at the ceiling once more, back to square one. He pulled the covers over his nose, desperate for at least an hour of sleep for the night. The alarm clock's red numbers flashed almost mockingly in his direction. Four twenty one, in the morning. The boy tried his best to ignore reality. He would get his sleep, even at ungodly hours like those. He squeezed his eyes shut so tightly he saw green. It was completely silent. No outside noise, no cricket sounds in his ears, nothing. Just him, and his own soft breathing. Silence was rare for him. It had been so long since he'd had a moment of quiet for himself. There was always something to listen to. He cracked open his eyes, knowing full well he was not getting a minute of sleep anytime soon, and stared blankly into space. The alarm clock flashed: four fifty three. Time flew by surprisingly quickly for the insomniac. Still, it was of no help at all in his situation. He needed time to go slower, if anything. Abruptly, he ripped his covers off of his now burning hot body and sat up in his bed, wincing as he felt his joints pop. He felt like an elderly man. Weak. It was still dark out, the boy suspected. He dragged his feet over to the left side of the bed and slowly got up, too tired to do much. As nice as sleep sounded to him right then, getting back into bed would not help at all. The boy shuffled over to his door, not bothering to button up his night shirt. It exposed his entire front, but who cared right now? He twisted the knob and pulled the door open, a white empty hall greeting him.

The air was even colder there. Sadly. The boy shivered, suddenly feeling the need to button his shirt back up. He brought his hands to his torso and proceeded to do so. Gently closing the door behind him, careful not to make a sound, the boy began his ascent to the rooftop of the building. The trip there was tediously long, but it was worth it. The boy enjoyed the view of the many stars that would twinkle during the night, and the tall buildings added to a sort of "city night" aesthetic. It was almost like an alternate universe. It was all so different from the daytime, when loud noises and blinding lights made their way into the city. The boy took a deep breath, coughing almost immediately afterwards. Cold air had made it's way into his already dry throat. He turned his gaze from the sky to the ground, tears welling up in his eyes. The boy stood there, trying his best to block out the pain. His entire form trembled. The noises of the city suddenly got louder. The boy kept his eyes on the ground, ignoring it all. It hurt. Everything hurt. Why was he so weak? Why did everything have to affect him like this? Salty droplets forced their way into his mouth. He licked his lips, savoring the wetness. Taking slow breaths, the boy looked off into the distance, eyes drinking up the stars. Staying calm was his top priority. Always. In four, hold seven, out eight. In four, hold seven, out eight. He closed his eyes, continuing his exercises. 

Somehow, he failed to notice a chopper hover directly above him. He almost let out a terrified screech as the sounds of the blades drowned out everything else. So much for peace and quiet. The boy made a mad dash for the roof entrance doors. He clutched the doorknob, freezing in place when he heard a shout. A black rope ladder dangled out of the chopper's side. Two large men dressed in black suits shimmied their way down. The boy didn't dare turn around as he heard loud footsteps coming towards him. He could have moved, he should have moved, but he didn't. Not even as he felt large hands seize his arms, trapping him. He barely repressed a scream, though. One of the men threw his petrified body over their shoulder and climbed back up the ladder. They threw his body into the chopper, not paying much attention to his wellbeing. The boy squeezed his eyes shut tightly, putting his hands to his ears. This wasn't happening. It couldn't. The men signaled the pilot, muttering amongst each other. The chopper began moving forward, making the boy sick. The two men turned to him, studying his body. They continued to talk quietly to each other, occasionally sneaking short glanced back to the boy. He couldn't understand what they were saying. 

Well, he heard only a single word. The boy furrowed his brow in a mixture of fear and confusion as he hesitantly looked out the window. The city looked even more beautiful from the birds eye view.

...

Danganronpa?

**Author's Note:**

> I cackle in the face of sickness because I am a lunatic. 
> 
> I posted the incomplete draft and just winged it and then panicked. My reactions are out of order.


End file.
